


How to Be Dead

by victoria_p (musesfool)



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Gen, POV Second Person, the skywalker family tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 22:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15229167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musesfool/pseuds/victoria_p
Summary: You lose everything. You give up.





	How to Be Dead

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Snow Patrol.

i. Padme

You give yourself to democracy—to Naboo, to the Republic—at a young age and it never lets you go. You have a sincere desire to do good, but you also enjoy the work. You are made for public service, for public consumption, and sometimes you regret sacrificing Padme Naberrie for Padme Amidala. Sometimes you wonder who you'd be without the makeup, the robes, the necessary marks of office.

You give yourself to Anakin and let yourself believe you can make it work. You love him, but he suspects that he comes in second to the Republic. When he presses you on it, you laugh and distract him with fervent kisses, whispering promises that after the war, when you don't have to keep your marriage a secret anymore, you'll prove him wrong.

You lose everything: your mentor, your belief in the system. Your husband. You tell Obi-Wan there's still good in him, even after what he's done (to you, to the galaxy), but you won't be around to be proved right. You've got nothing left to give to your children but their names and a legacy they'll spend a lifetime trying to discover. You lose everything, and it kills you.

*

ii. Anakin

You don't see it at first, how much of yourself you've lost to the war. It's easy to rationalize, to justify almost anything in pursuit of victory. The Council doesn't understand, but they're not in the field with you, they're not the ones paying in blood and sweat and tears to win this war. You failed your mother, but you have so much more to lose now—a wife, a padawan, a battalion. A child. You have to keep everyone safe. 

It'll be worth it, when the war is over. When you can live openly as Padme's husband, when the Jedi will have to let you, because you will have won the war.

You lose everything. The Jedi drive Ahsoka away, turn Obi-Wan against you. Obi-Wan's lies cause Padme's betrayal. You kill her, but it's not your fault. Only Palpatine is left, only he has not betrayed you, only he understands the sacrifices you've made to bring order, the greatness you're destined for.

You spend twenty years believing that, until Fett says the name _Skywalker_. You have a son, and in the end, you give your life to save him. You've lost everything, but in dying, you regain the light.

*

iii. Obi-Wan

You lose everything. The galaxy takes and takes and takes, and you've borne up under the strain as a proper Jedi should, but you are hollow inside. You've soldiered on bravely through your losses as the list grows long and longer: Qui-Gon, Satine, Ahsoka. The clones, the Jedi, Padme. 

_Anakin_. 

The boy you trained, the brother you love, is gone. You wonder what changed and how you missed it. But you can't kill him. You can't even keep watch to make sure he dies properly after you maim him.

You've lost everything, but you cannot give up, you cannot lie down and die, though your heart cries out for rest, for peace, for an end to your pain and your grief. You take Luke in your arms and know you would do anything for him, to protect him from all the things that took Anakin from you.

You spend twenty years in the desert, become a hermit, a legend, a myth. You watch over Luke from a distance, because Owen doesn't want you any closer, is afraid you'll fail Luke the way you failed his father. You're afraid of that too, but even in the course of your losses, you gain things. 

You speak with Qui-Gon now, and tell him all the things you couldn't in those years when you were young and lost and doing the best you could. He tells you not to dwell on the past, to let those old fears go. You learn to live in the moment, to seize your opportunity when it arises. 

You let Vader kill you, because you cannot fight him again. Because you have to save his children. Because death is not the end.

You lose your life, but gain oneness with the Force, and the first glimmering of victory over the Sith.

*

iv. Han

You start with nothing, which means you have nothing to lose. Along the way you pick up a best friend, a partner, a ship. A princess, a farm boy, and a price on your head. A belief that the galaxy doesn't have to be this way. A sense of belonging. A wife, a son, a brother. A legitimate business.

And then the galaxy takes it all from you, piece by piece, as you'd always suspected it would.

You don't care about the business; you've built yourself up from nothing before. You could even accept losing the Falcon if it meant you'd kept your family. But there's something broken in Ben that you can't fix—you don't have the Force and you don't believe in destiny. So when Leia sends him to Luke, you agree. 

You don't blame her when it all goes wrong. You don't blame Luke, either. You know it's not your fault, but you can't help wondering if things would be different if you'd been a better father. If you'd had access to the Force. If Ben hadn't. If he'd been ordinary like you instead of amazing like his mother.

But you know it's deeper than that, that Vader's legacy is to blame, that he's ruined your family the way he'd ruined the galaxy so many years before. 

You go back to what you know, and spend years trying to forget you'd ever known anything else. You and Chewie do all right. You're survivors, after all. Even if your hearts aren't in it. Life is less painful that way.

Then you meet the girl. Rey reminds you of yourself, a little, and of Luke, a lot. Maz calls it seeing the same eyes in different faces, but you know it's just the second verse, same as the first. You still don't believe in destiny but you know now that the Force is real and it likes to jerk you around.

It takes you back to Leia one last time, and you will only ever be grateful for that, for her love and her presence in your life, even if it ended badly every time.

You've lost and regained everything more times than you can count, and you agree to roll the dice one more time. You face your son and you forgive him, even as he kills you. You've lost everything, but at least you fought the odds.

*

v. Luke

You always knew you were missing something, and for most of your childhood, you assumed it was your father. You never thought to ask about your mother, never needed to, because Aunt Beru was there to tuck you in and give you kisses when you scraped your knees and cried. You know that Uncle Owen loved you, but he didn't understand. You weren't made to be a farmer. Your father was a pilot and you were going to be one too.

You lose your family and gain a new one in the same day. You are a child of the desert and you have no tears to spare for Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. 

You meet Princess Leia and though you can't identify it at the time, something slots into place, some missing piece of your heart and soul has been found.

Old Ben tells you about your father, about the Force, and when he hands you your father's lightsaber, it seems like the rest of what you were missing has been returned to you. You want to learn, you want to be a Jedi, you want to avenge your father's and Ben's deaths. You destroy the Death Star and tell yourself everyone aboard was complicit in the Empire's crimes (and later, you quietly mourn for those who weren't, adding them to the list of pilots lost when Wedge reads out the names over tin cups of hangar-brewed rotgut).

You want to be a Jedi like your father, and you eagerly absorb whatever Yoda tries to teach you, even if most of it doesn't make sense and isn't what you want to learn. Even if he thinks you're not worthy, not capable. Not half the man your father was. You're used to being discounted, underestimated, even mocked, but you have confidence in what you can do. You've always been more than what people thought, always risen above what was expected of you.

You're shaken by the vision of yourself in Vader's suit, but you can't leave Han and Leia to his tender mercies. You might not be a Jedi yet, but you're not going to let your friends die when you could save them.

You don't save them.

You can't even save yourself.

You learn the truth about your father, about Vader. About how they are one and the same and everything you thought you knew was a lie. You lose your childhood hero, your trust in your mentors, and your right hand in the space of one disastrous fight.

The hand is easily replaceable. The rest comes back slowly over the next few months, through the meditation you'd previously dismissed and the teachings you'd chosen to ignore. You construct a new lightsaber and save Han from Jabba, staying calm and focused even as everything around you dissolves into chaos. The Force is your ally and a powerful ally it is.

Yoda confirms the truth before he dies, and you hope you haven't disappointed him, despite your declaration that you cannot, will not, kill your own father, not while you can feel the conflict within him. You try not to let Ben's distress affect you. You will make him proud, the way he'd once been proud of Anakin.

Vader tells you it's too late for him, and you accept that, accept that the most frightening man in the Empire is also a beaten down slave who can't see his way to freedom even when it's offered.

You reject the darkness itching to claim you and accept the pain of the Emperor's punishment. You will save your father or die a Jedi, and you whisper your apologies to Leia, that you're leaving this burden to her, when Vader—no, _Anakin_ —finally responds to your pleas and destroys the Emperor.

You've saved him and the galaxy and your faith is restored.

Leia is your sister, the missing part of your soul, and Han is your brother and best friend, and you've brought hope to a galaxy that was starved for it. You never quite believe your own press, but you are determined to restore the Jedi Order.

You don't think you know best but you also think you're doing a pretty good job, right up until everything goes wrong. You can't help Ben. You can sense the darkness in him, sense the damage he's going to cause, and you know you can't save him. Maybe you were wrong to save your father. Maybe Skywalkers are always destined to fall and doom the galaxy to horror.

You lose your nephew, your students, and your belief in your own righteousness in that moment, and you deny yourself the Force (and your family) as penance.

You lose everything, and for a long time, you give up. 

The Force is strong with Rey, but you no longer feel confident in your ability to guide her. Much like your father and your first mentor, you've let your failure consume you, and it's only with Yoda's prodding that you realize how lost you are. How wrong. How much yet you can still contribute to the galaxy.

You let yourself bask in Leia's presence before you move to face her son, to save the Rebellion one last time. You've given Rey the tools to carry on, and once again, you've brought hope to a galaxy in need.

You die, and you're at peace.

*

vi. Leia

You lose everything, over and over again. You are durasteel, forged in the twin flames of loss and fury, a shining sword of justice unsheathed upon the Empire.

You are tortured and do not break. You watch Alderaan destroyed and do not bend. You burn bright with hope and possibility and when those are in short supply, you fuel yourself with the knowledge that the Emperor must pay, that justice must be served, for Alderaan and every other world the Empire has destroyed in its endless quest for order.

You find a best friend in Luke, a husband in Han, a good friend in Chewbacca. You allow yourself the quiet moments of softness away from the public eye, so you don't lose yourself in the fight for the galaxy.

You lose everything else, though, time and time again. Vader casts a lengthy shadow. Your son, your beautiful baby boy, is slowly swallowed by a darkness you cannot understand (though you know where it comes from and can't help but blame yourself, your bloodline). You watch as the New Republic slowly devolves into the same kind of squabbling that doomed the Old Republic. The revelation of your parentage costs you not just your job but the respect you thought you'd earned through your many years of service. It would be easy to blame everyone else, but you know where the fault truly lies; but Vader's been dead for thirty years and can no longer pay for his crimes.

You'd resurrect him and kill him again yourself for what has happened to your son, but you also know that falling is a choice, and Ben keeps making the wrong one, every time.

You lose Luke and you lose Han, but you've still got the Resistance, still have a galaxy to save, so you throw yourself into work, into proving you were right and everyone else was wrong. It's a position you're familiar with, one that feels comfortable even in its misery.

Poe Dameron reminds you of yourself without the polish; his parents would be proud, even if he still has a lot to learn about leadership.

The Force brings Han back to you briefly, and you're glad, even though you've sent him to his death. You feel it half a galaxy away, the pain in your heart sharp and familiar. You reach out again for Luke but he's still silent, still blaming himself for what's not his fault. You've stood on your own before and you will do it again if you have to. Still, you send Rey to find him—maybe he'll respond to her, to the reminder of who he used to be.

You think of him when you feel the conflict within Ben during the attack. Was this what Luke had sensed from Vader? Was this why he'd believed, against all odds, that Vader could be saved? That's the difference between you and Luke—you know that the only one who can save Ben is himself. He's made his choices and you'll all have to live and die by them.

You're blown off the bridge of the Raddus along with the rest of the command staff, and as you float away into the void of space, you think of giving up. No one would blame you. You fought long and hard for the galaxy. Maybe it's someone else's turn.

But you've never met a fight you didn't want to win, never gave up when you had even the slightest bit of hope. You reach out to the Force and reel yourself in. The First Order isn't going to defeat itself.

Luke finally shows himself and you soak up the warmth of his presence, let him know you don't blame him for anything but thinking you'd blame him for Ben. You could have used his help, his support, but he'd made his choices, too, and you've both had to live with them.

Luke saves the Resistance with one last act of heroism, and you feel him fade into the Force with a sense of peacefulness you envy. Once again, you've lost everything, but you still have a galaxy to save, and someone needs to show the new kids how it's done.

end


End file.
